Happy Birthday, Dear Daddy!

The last time I blogged was on the occasion of my parent's 63rd wedding anniversary.  As I just re-read those words I'm thankful that I shared that with them on that special occasion.  I'm thankful that I never missed an opportunity to tell my Daddy what a great Daddy he was to me, how much he influenced my life and how much I loved him.  Though he was extremely hard of hearing I made sure he heard me tell him at the end of every visit "I love you, Daddy".  At the end of every phone call to my Mom after I would tell her I loved her, knowing my Dad couldn't hear the conversation I would add, "and tell Daddy I love him too."  I'm thankful that in my last phone call with my parents as my Daddy was being rolled into surgery I told my Mom to "give Daddy a hug and tell him I love him."   I'm thankful  I told him when I could because today I'm at a loss for words.  Today is a special occasion:  It would have been my Daddy's 88th birthday but I have no words to say. Three weeks ago my Daddy experienced the best day of his life.  On May 22nd at 12:55 pm. Daddy took his last breath and woke up on the other side in the arms of Jesus.  Moments later we heard "Braham's Lullabye" being played over the hospital intercom signifying another baby was born.  Just as a mother somewhere in that hospital had been laboring to give birth, Daddy had been laboring to leave this life for a better one.  Ecclesiastes 7:1 says, "The day of death is better than the day of birth" and that was especially true for Daddy.  Everything he had lived for, labored for and hoped for was finally given him...Eternal life with Jesus, and what a precious gift that is!  So today on June 11th all I have left to say is, "Happy Birthday, Dear Daddy" and "I love you."  But of course he already knew that.

Totally Committed

Can't believe it's been over three months since I've blogged...time does fly when you're having fun!  But today is October 14th, a very special day in my family, one worth pausing to think about and blog about.  You see, sixty-three years ago today was the second most important day in my parents' lives.  The first most important day was the day they committed themselves to Christ.  Their second most important day was the day Harley Eugene Daniel and Marie Ellen Hitchcock committed themselves to each other and after sixty-three years their commitment "till death do us part" is stronger than ever!  In over six decades together they have lived in four different states, raised three girls in a Christian home, sent their girls through a Christian college and wed them off to Christian mates.  They have helped care for three grandsons, three granddaughters and two great-grandchildren.  They have served the church as deacon and deacon's wife and elder and elder's wife.  Together they have  entertained countless Christians in their home and led many, many more to Christ.  They continue to work and play side-by-side each day serving others and serving each other.  I was blessed last week to spend several days in their home observing with delight the way they have truly become one person, finishing each other's sentences, reading each other's mind, completing each other's tasks and unashamedly giving each other constant hugs, kisses and affirmations of "I love you"s.  It did my heart good to see that level of commitment in my parents because it seems like here lately I've seen so much of the other side.  I hear every week of another young couple who has decided to give up, that they feel their marriage isn't worth fighting for and that breaks my heart.  I  know life is hard, struggles are real, disagreements will happen...My parents have had their share and they haven't hidden that from me.  But they've learned that with Christ and commitment they can get through it and make every day better than the one before.  I want to be just like them when I grow up!
Today, October 14th, is very special to me for another reason.  Forty-five years ago today was THE most important day in my life...the day I committed my life to Christ.  I didn't realize that day that it was my parents' eighteenth wedding anniversary.  There were a lot of things I didn't realize back then, after all, how much can a nine-year old girl really know?  But I knew who Jesus was and I knew what He did for me and I knew that I wanted to live for Him.  So I committed my life to Him that day and I've been trying to honor that commitment "till death, then we shall never part" ever since.  Did I understand on that day everything my spiritual journey would involve?  Not any more than my Mom as a blushing 19-year-old bride understood about marriage.  But I've learned with Christ and commitment I can make every day better than the one before.  And I thank God that he never gives up on me!

Our Rubber Anniversary

On July 1, 2012 Keith and I celebrated a very special occasion, our Rubber Anniversary.  I know that tradition mandates that the 25th anniversary is a Silver Anniversary and a 50th is a Golden Anniversary but was unsure of what the 35th signified until I received my gift from Keith  when he presented me with a set of four very expensive beautiful new tires to go on my old van and proclaimed, "Happy Anniversary, Honey!" and I knew then that the 35th year was our Rubber Anniversary.  After our recent blowout on I-40 I felt like this was a pretty appropriate and loving gift since we now spend practically every day of the year travelling the globe together in that old van and his thoughtful gift was only intended to keep us safely on the road together for many more years to come.  I reciprocated by going out the next day and purchasing him a new set of luggage (the last 4 years has literally worn out the old set) with a card stating I hoped to follow him around for another 35 years.  In the card I reminded him that 35 years prior I had stood before our family and friends and had promised to him in a shaky little girl's voice (I WAS a child bride!) the words of Ruth, "Whither thou goest, I will go; whither thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people and thy God, my God."  Then I wrote the words that I told him on that hot July day so many highway exits ago, "I go where you go, amigo!"  It's been quite a journey these past 35 years...but as the song says that accompanied our exit on our wedding day, "We've only just begun to live...White lace and promises... A kiss for luck and we're on our way...We've only begun...Before the rising sun we fly...So many roads to choose...We'll start at walking and learn to run...And yes we've just begun...Sharing horizons that are new to us....Watching the signs along the way...Talking it over just the two of us....Working together day by day...Together, together...And when the evening comes we'll smile...So much of life ahead...We'll find a place where there's room to grow...And yes we've just begun...We've only just begun!"   Happy Rubber Anniversary, Sweetheart!

LOL

One of the sweetest sounds to my ears is hearing Pete's laugh.  When he was a baby I longed to hear a "normal baby" cry but the best he could muster was an occasional high-pitched whimper, sounding more like an injured cat.  Now after 29 years he still hasn't mastered the art of crying, occasionally trying to convince us with a pitiful "fake cry", but he has learned to laugh, and laugh often.  This manchild of ours has provided years of joy as we have laughed at him/with him at his antics which we find humorous but in a "normal" person we might find, well, stupid!  Now it's his turn to laugh at us.  A week or so ago we woke up in Bardwell, Kentucky and I asked Keith if he remembered waking me up in the middle of the night in a panic asking me, "Sandra, Where are we?"  When I said this Pete erupted into a giggle, and I call it a giggle because that's what his laugh usually sounds like...a little girl's giggle.  Then I told Keith I didn't worry about him asking that, after all we wake up in a different town every week. But I said I would start worrying when he woke me up calling me by the wrong name, at which Pete let out a big belly laugh, rolling in the floor laughing.  And it dawned on me, He got it!  I'm so glad that of all the things we have taught Pete over the years we've taught him to have a sense of humor.  As Keith and I get older and have some "Senior moments" we start asking ourselves who among us is most mentally challenged!  In spite of all of our disabilities I'm thankfull that we have the ability to laugh at ourselves.  Maybe some day we will die laughing!

Time In A Bottle

If I could save time in a bottle the first thing that I'd like to do

Is to save every day till eternity passes away just to spend it with you.

If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true

I'd save every day like a treasure and then, again I would spend them with you.

If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that never came true

The box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you.

But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.

I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with...

-Jim Croce, 1974-

One of the blessings/curses of teaching preschool for 15  years is running into my former students who are now all grown up reminding me of how old I've become.  That happened to me yesterday when I walked into Chick-fil-a and saw a beautiful blonde-haired teen-aged girl sitting at a table surrounded by loud, hormonal teen-aged guys.  I had to do a double-take before I recognized the once-shy little three-year old student of mine and exclaim, "Shelby, I almost didn't recognize you; You're all grown up!"  As I watched this group of excited teens who had gathered together to plan their Senior Prom my own memories of high school came flooding back to me.  My very conservative parents had not allowed me to go to my Senior Prom so I was excited to be on the committee planning my Senior Banquet.  We had chosen rather appropriately that year as our theme song  Jim Croce's "Time In a Bottle" and decorated each place setting with a tiny bottle filled with colorful sand (which is probably still buried in my hope chest somewhere between my diploma and all of Keith's love letters).  And as I watched this new generation of teens I couldn't help but ask myself, Where did the time go?  I had another of these deja-vu moments a couple of weeks ago when someone on Facebook asked me to join our school's online yearbook.  In the 37 years since my graduation I hadn't been back to any high school reunions and only kept up with a few chosen classmates so it was eye-opening to see their updated photos and read about their now grown-up lives.  It was awkward to see "The Italian Stallion" and remember our frequent lighthearted flirtations.  Keith would be chagrined to see that his graying hair was also turning loose, though Keith had never really felt threatened by him (they both knew back then where my real affections were).  I viewed with intrepidation the page of the class nerd (think "Screech" on "Saved By the Bell") whose annoying advances I often dodged.  I remembered one particular time I ran out of excuses and lamely accepted a date (can you say "awwwwkward!") then, overcome with fear that my friends would see me with a "loser" I managed to get out of the date.  He never pursued me again after that day and I kind of missed it.  It gave me great pleasure (and some relief) to see that today he has a beautiful wife who obviously chose to look past the cover and he is a successful, award-winning architect.  I viewed with sorrow and a certain vulnerability the posts about our many classmates who have passed from this life to the next, many of them victims of various forms of cancer.  I realized that death, and cancer in particular, is no respector of persons...It had taken the popular, and the nobody, the  jock and the nerd alike.  Most of all looking at that yearbook I realized that time stands still for nobody.  If I could put time in a bottle those sands would still keep seeping through till they would eventually run out.  And that's exactly as it should be.  I wouldn't go back and relive those days for anything, neither do I want to rush through these days to get on to the next.  Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, just as it should be...and I want to hang on to that pendulum for as long as I can and enjoy the ride!

The Least Of These

"...Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to see me...I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."    Matthew 25:34...40.


I recently did a very stupid thing.  I know, any of you who have read my blogs are probably thinking...AGAIN?  No, I didn't glue my fingers together this time, not even my toes, but I did manage to break my baby toe!  We had just checked into our motel room a week ago in Jonesboro, Arkansas on a Saturday night where Keith was to preach the next day.  It was around midnight and I was tired, not looking, and managed to  kick HARD the leg of a sofa with my baby toe, immediately sending excruciating pain up my leg.  My poor little baby toe has always been a source of embarrassment to me since it's always been short, fat and stubby and to my girls' dismay they have inherited my ugly baby toe gene (Ashley calls it her potatoe toe) but now it became increasingly fat, purple and ugly!  It was amazing to me how hurting the tiniest, most despicable part of my body could affect my life.  For the next several days I hobbled barefoot around the motel, only forcing my toes in a closed-toe shoe to  hobble into church, slump down on a pew, then kick off my shoe.  The most humiliating thing about injuring my toe is having to back down on my new-found comittment to walking three times per week with Keith.  Just when I was beginning to look forward to our long "walking and  talking" sessions I've had to give it a break.  Keith hasn't complained though!  It has reminded me of what Paul said to the Corinthians about treating even our weakest body parts with special honor and how if one body part suffers, we all suffer with it.  It's also made me think of what Jesus said about us serving our weaker members, "the least of these".  I admit that my focus is sometimes on myself and what makes me comfortable instead of reaching out to the hurting.  I wish I could be more like my husband who has ALWAYS since I've known him shown kindness and compassion to the little guy and treated everyone as if he were Jesus Himself.  Just in the last 24 hours I've seen Keith spend hours counseling with the hurting, both on the phone and face to face, take in a homeless young man to give him temporary shelter in our home, visit a murder convict in jail, take food to a family whose loved one is on hospice care, all while suffering himself with bronchitis.  Keith not only preaches the word but practices it.  He would be embarrassed if he knew I was typing this but there's not much of a chance of that since he refuses to embrace technology...doesn't have time for it.  Keith doesn't blog, text or tweet and says "I plan to go to heaven without any Facebook friends!"  I have no doubt he'll make it there.  I just hope God gives me grace and a healed toe so I can walk and talk on those golden streets by his side.

Happy Birthday, Ben!!!

Today marks a milestone for someone who is near and dear to my heart.  My sweet father-in-law, Ben Paul Parker, aka Papa, turns 80 years old today.  I know that this isn't that noteworthy in an age where more and more people are living into their 80's and even their 90's but for the Parker family this day is pretty remarkable.  For the last few years Ben has faced death over and over again, even had CPR performed on him by  a team of doctors and nurses in the operating room as recently as four months ago.  For several years Keith has prayed that our parents would live into their 80's.  My parents reached the goal of that prayer a few years ago and Keith's mother will this August.  Keith and I are all too aware of how many of our friends have already lost all their parents and are very grateful to have all four of ours still with us.  But no matter how old they become, no matter how many health challenges they have or how feeble we see them becoming right before our eyes, we're never ready to give them up.  So today we rejoice that Ben has lived to celebrate his 80th birthday with his family.  I watched him last Saturday as he got ready to go to his birthday party and delighted in his excitement as he donned his party hat and kept urging us "C'mon..let's go!" like an eager eight-year-old.  Ben has always had a zest for life and lived it to the fullest, whether taking his grandsons fishing or taking his granddaughters on special trips, pushing the grandkids to go on just one more roller coaster ride at Opryland or stay up past midnight to yell "Roll Tide" one more time on Bourbon Street!  Though he has slowed down considerably physically, his appreciation for life hasn't waned.  Every one of his kids and grandkids can probably tell you of the number of times he has persuaded them to come sit with him in his car so he can play for them one more time the tape of Daniel O'Donnell crooning the words to his favorite song:  "Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery and only this moment is mine."  Last Saturday I couldn't help but think that the last time Ben was surrounded by that many of his loved ones was in the hospital room when we were afraid that day might be his last.  Ben had requested for his party that there be no gifts (though we all ignored that request).  I think he knows that for him at this point the greatest gift is life itself.  And though he would be the first to tell you that he is prepared spiritually to leave this life and go to live with God, for now he is going to love this life and live each day to the fullest.  Happy Birthday, Ben!!!